


Not Just a Game

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, And of course fluff, Bowling alley, F/M, Greasers, Human AU, Smoking, cursing, some romance more fighting and necking and some smut, think a little West Side Story and Grease-like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: 1950'sBog works in a Bowling Alley, Marianne is a college woman, who comes in to bowl with her boyfriend Roland...hijinks ensue...





	1. College Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoyalFlushGang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalFlushGang/gifts).



> prompt idea from royal-flush-gang!!

The sounds of bowling balls rolling down the lanes and the smack of plastic against the wood of the pins filled the bowling alley as Bog worked. It was a typical Friday night at Dark Forest Bowling Alley. 

The inside of the bowling alley was fairly typical, with the “astro” looking decorations, but the color scheme was different than most bowling allies. It was one of the few things that Bog truly liked about the place, the dark color scheme his mother had picked out. 

The lanes were all full—the sounds of laughter and music made it impossible for Bog to hear himself think. 

He curled his lip a little as he exchanged shoes for a group of kids, teenagers from the local high school crowded the counter chatting like a group of geese. Bog sighed hoping to get a break soon; he really needed a cigarette in the backroom or outside—anywhere—to get away from the noise for just a little while. 

There were groups of young and old alike bowling tonight. There was a small group of kids by the jukebox picking out songs and dancing in tight little groups while they watched parents or boyfriends bowl. 

Bog chewed on the end of his unlit cigarette while he was handing out a couple of lanes when he saw the group of college kids come waltzing through the front door. He sighed with exasperation. They showed up every Friday night like clockwork. They would bowl a few games, hang out, eat—the usual. What he didn't like was that one girl that was with them...she was dating Roland Knight who was an actor...a real show-off. He was good-looking and he knew it, flirting with everything in a skirt. But it was his girlfriend Marianne Summerfield that really got under Bog's skin. She was beautiful with her long brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, her cute dress with the flouncing skirt all in a light pink. 

She was beautiful. Bog knew she was 21 only because they had come through here on her birthday. 

Bog sighed. She was beautiful, but apparently a real kook since she was going out with that Roland. 

Bog shook his head. It wasn't like he stood a chance with a girl like Marianne, but he really hated to see her wasting herself on a loser like Roland Knight. 

Their group came up to the counter laughing. Bog's expression was one of absolute boredom with a hint of exasperation as he took out his cigarette, putting it behind his ear. Bog's “ look” was especially harsh when Roland leaned his elbow on the counter. 

“Hey there Big Daddy, wanna set us up?” Roland grinned. 

Bog, who had been bent over with his elbows on the counter, stood up slowly to his full height towering over Roland. 

“Twenty-five cents.” Bog's slight accent rolled over the words. 

Roland grinned putting down the money giving his friends a quick glance over his shoulder. Bog didn't have to see it to know that Roland was playing the role of the “big” man on the town paying for his friends' game tonight. 

Bog sneered taking the money. “Lane twelve. Exchange yer shoes here.” 

Each of the kids came up one at a time handing him their shoes and telling him their size. When it was Marianne's turn, Bogs stern outer expression dropped. He smiled slightly. “Size?” 

Marianne grinned at him, setting her shoes on the counter. “Size 7 1/2” 

Bog chuckled. “Tiny, eh?” 

Marianne quirked an eyebrow causing Bog to flush muttering. “Yer shoe size.” 

He quickly snatched her shoes off the counter and turned to hide his blush. He placed her shoes in a slot and turned around handing her the bowling shoes. Marianne smiled at him. “Yeah, tiny feet.” 

He chuckled embarrassed. Marianne looked about to say something else but, Roland came over and dropped his arm around her shoulders. “Come on Buttercup, leave the old man alone—going to give him a heart attack.” 

The group laughed, but Marianne frowned at Roland though she still let him lead her away. 

Bog muttered under his breath, “Twenty-seven ain't old, ya little shit.” 

The rest of the evening went along as usual, with Bog having to chase some kids out who kept screwing around instead of bowling, unjamming the ball return, giving a jukebox a swift kick when it ate someone's change, and cleaning up some spilled soda in the dining area. 

Bog was leaning on one hand against the counter in a rare moment of quiet. He reached over adjusting the pack of cigarettes he had rolled under his sleeve when he saw 

Marianne walk over to the jukebox. He had been doing his best not to stare at her when she was over with Roland, but he noticed when she moved. It was hard not to notice; she was pretty with her big skirt and ponytail. He frowned berating himself for mooning over a girl. Stupid Bog, stupid. No woman is going to look sideways at you unless it's to tell you to get away from her, he thought. 

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, wrinkling his long, pointed nose in consternation. 

Marianne looked upset as she placed both hands on either side of the machine, looking over what was offered inside the music box. She rubbed the back of one leg with her shoe which Bog found cute and sexy. He sighed quickly looking away. He couldn't believe how pathetic he was staring at a girl...he had learned his lesson a while ago about love. It wasn't for him. Marianne was not only a college girl, but she was too classy for a guy like him anyway...which was why she was probably going out with a jerk like Roland Knight. He was clearly from money and had the good looks, what every girl wanted in a husband. 

Bog busied himself with organizing some of the bowling shoes when he glanced over to see Roland laughing with his buddies. Bog didn't know exactly what had happened to make Marianne walk away from him, but Roland clearly had no clue he'd upset Marianne. Either that or the jerk didn't care. 

Bog chewed his bottom lip as his eyes shifted to watching her again. How could any guy who had a beauty like Marianne as his girlfriend do anything to upset her? It wasn't even just that she was beautiful! She was in college, so she was smart too. Granted, Bog didn't “know” her but damn, why would any man treat his girl badly? Bog remembered how his parents were—love and mutual respect. Bog had always wanted that for himself, but he was pretty sure a relationship like that wasn't in the cards for someone like him. 

As Bog kept glancing over to them, his first reaction was to walk over to her, ask if she was feeling alright, then offer to hit Roland hard enough that the next three generations of Knights would feel it. But instead, he simply watched her. A girl like Marianne wouldn't appreciate a roach like him bothering her, even if he just wanted to help. 

* 

A few minutes later, Roland sauntered over to where Marianne was still hanging out by the jukebox. She was talking to a couple of other young women who seemed to be consoling her. Bog noticed that she kept slipping class ring on and off her finger and, judging by the size of it, it was a guy's ring, probably Roland's. Roland grinned at the women, winking before he wrapped an arm around Marianne's shoulder. Bog couldn't hear their argument, but it was clear Marianne didn't want anything to do with Roland. She pushed on his chest and said something, her voice contorted in anger. Bog could pick the anger up despite the noises and her emotion was clearly written on her face. 

Roland kept trying to put his arms around her or touch her, saying something that looked for all the world like he was trying to placate her. Marianne shoved on him, but Roland yanked her closer. 

Bog's fingers formed into fists. Roland was clearly not taking no for an answer. Bog finally couldn't take it any more. He left his station and walked over to where the two were arguing. As he got closer he could hear Marianne snarling, “Don't touch me. I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore. I'm breaking up with you Roland!” 

“Ah come on, buttercup? Really? It was one girl...” Roland reached out to stroke a finger along Marianne's cheek. 

She pushed him away again just as Bog stepped forward. “Look, if you're causing trouble I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” 

Roland turned around to face Bog. Marianne took that opportunity to step away from him. Roland on the other hand got up in Bog's face. “You can't throw us out—we're paying customers!” 

Bog narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I can. You're disturbing the other paying customers. So now you need to leave or I'm throwing you out on your ass.” 

Roland suddenly pushed Bog in the chest causing him to stumbled backwards a few steps. 

Roland started to laugh; his little group of supporters had walked up making sure to surround their “prince” Roland. The group of them were laughing when Bog stumbled into a young woman who squeaked in surprise, pushing him away. 

Roland wasn't prepared for how fast Bog could move. One second he was laughing and the next Bog had him by the collar and was walking him out of the bowling alley. Bog opened the door and tossed Roland out. 

“Ye'll be billed for the shoes.” 

He turned his attention to Roland's groupies who quickly ran out after their “fearless” leader shooting Bog intense glares. Bog glared every single one of them down before turning and slamming the door. 

When he walked back into the bowling alley several people stood up and clapped. Bog frowned, but blushed. 

He made his way back over to Marianne, speaking softly. “I'm sorry about all of that. Are you alright?” 

Marianne smiled and nodded. “I am. Thank you...?” 

“Bog. The name's Bog.” Bog shoved his hands in his pockets really wishing he could light up a cigarette right now, find something to do with his too large hands. 

Bog frowned again, pressing his lips together. “Do you need me to call you a ride home?” 

Marianne blushed. “Do you mind if I hang out here for a while before going home? 

Bog shrugged. “It's fine...ah...you know, how about I buy you a milkshake...calm your nerves?” 

Marianne beamed. “Wow, knight in shining armor and buys a girl a milkshake? You're too good to be true.” 

Bog snorted. “I ain't no knight. Though you might be a princess.” 

Bog could have hit himself...that was the stupidest thing he thought he had ever said to a woman. Instead of giving him a dirty look, Marianne laughed which caused him to blush and look away. At least she laughed; that was better than being disgusted with him. He smiled a little. Marianne looked surprised at his smile. He had a really nice smile, she thought. He didn't look like the type of guy who smiled a lot, but when he did it was...nice. 

Bog walked Marianne out to the mini food court, waving at a young man with large black glasses working behind the counter. “Hey Thang, can you hook my friend here up with a milkshake? Just add it to my tab.” 

The young man named Thang waved. “Hey Bog, sure thing boss man!” 

Bog nodded to Marianne. “Thang makes a great milkshake. Just tell him what you want. You can even get a little crazy if you want with the flavors. Thang can make pretty much anything.” 

Marianne smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

He shrugged. “No problem.” 

Bog left her there walking back to his station, grinning to himself. 

* 

Marianne brought her milkshake over to where Bog was working and he fetched her a chair. They talked about nothing important really. When they discussed music, he was surprised by her taste in music. He figured her for a Chordette's fan rather than an Elvis fan, but her tastes were more toward Rock-n-Roll, which he found delightful. He laughed under his breath when she said something about Elvis. 

“Do your parents know that their sweet little daughter likes devil music?” Bog asked as he was exchanging shoes out. 

Marianne flushed. “No.” 

He chuckled. “Didn't think so.” 

Marianne wrinkled her nose at him which made him chuckle. 

Soon though it was closing time. Marianne offered to help, but Bog simply waved her off. She sat on her chair talking to him while he closed. They were discussing movies and favorite singers...discovering that they actually had a great deal in common. 

Bog smiled putting the money from the night in the safe in the back office. Marianne had followed him, the two of them talking about the movie, Rebel Without a Cause; they had both seen it and were discussing the movie while Bog opened the safe. Marianne found herself really enjoying his company He actually listened to her, something which she realized Roland never did. Roland's always pretended with a lot of “Yeah...uhuh...” But Bog actually asked her questions and made real comments. It was nice. He would also tell her things, for instance, he talked about working at the bowling alley and he answered her questions instead of telling her “Not to worry her pretty little head about such things...” Which was Roland's usual response. Even though they were in college, Roland kept treating her as if her whole life centered around him, that someday she would marry him and play the devoted little wife. Bog was actually interested in what she was studying, literature. Marianne wanted to be a writer someday. Bog found that fascinating...which Marianne both appreciated but also found appealing. A man who wasn't afraid of his masculinity being confronted by a intelligent woman. 

* 

Bog finished with the safe. He stood and cracked his neck. 

“You really need to let me call you a cab or give you a ride home.” 

Marianne smiled dipping her head to hide the blush that had raced up her cheeks. Why was his cracking his neck suddenly so appealing? She wondered. 

“What kind of car do you have?” she asked with curiosity. 

Bog snorted, his long strides taking him back up front with Marianne hurrying along behind him. “Car? Nah, I have a motorcycle. An Indian Chief custom—put it together myself. Not too scared to ride on a bike are you, tough girl?” 

Marianne grinned. “Are you serious?? I have always wanted to try riding a motorcycle.” 

Bog snorted. “Well, today is your lucky day. Come on.” 

He grabbed his leather jacket off the chair behind the counter and led Marianne out front turning to lock the doors. 

No sooner had he locked the doors to the bowling alley than Roland stepped out of the darkness. Behind him he had five other guys. Roland sneered. “Nobody throws me out, you got that roach.” 

Marianne, who had been temporarily hidden behind Bog stepped around him, glaring daggers at Roland. “Roland, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Roland frowned. “Marianne? What are you still doing here and with that?!” He pointed at Bog in disgust. 

Marianne put her hands on her hips which did nothing to make her look intimidating with her pink skirt and ponytail, but the coldness in her eyes was pretty terrifying. 

“Roland Knight you better not hurt him or I swear I'll tell your mother!” Roland paled for a moment, but he knew he couldn't back down, not in front of his gang. 

“Marianne go home, that's where a woman belongs anyway.” The guys behind him made “OooOoo!” noises while Bog looked even more disgusted. 

Bog took a step froward putting himself between Roland and Marianne. “What the hell do you want Roland?” 

Roland sneered. “I wanna plant your face in the pavement.” With that Roland took a step toward Bog, his fist swinging. It was clear Roland had no idea how to fight. Bog came forward wrapping his larger hand around Roland's fist and with his other hand he swung up, decking Roland across the jaw. The other five guys sprang into action. One of them ran around the two men fighting and grabbed Marianne around her waist pulling her out of the way. Two others managed, just barely, to grab Bog under his arms and haul him off of Roland. They dragged Bog backwards while Bog struggled nearly breaking free. They were having a difficulty time keeping a hold of Bog when Roland rushed forward and started punching Bog in the stomach and face. 

Marianne screamed. “ROLAND STOP IT!!” 

She twisted herself around and slammed her forehead into the nose of the guy holding her. He yelped letting go of her and covering his now bleeding nose. 

She rushed forward shoving Roland away from Bog. The blonde man stumbled. “Hey buttercup!!” 

Marianne rushed forward another step and before Roland could react at all, Marianne slapped him across the face. 

Roland blinked in shock. “You...what are you doing?” 

Marianne hissed. “Roland, you are a world class jerk. First you cheat on me, then you flirt in front of me with another girl like it's funny and now this? We are over, completely. I never want to see you again!” With that she pulled off the class ring and threw it in Roland's face. 

Roland gasped, dropping to his hands and knees in the parking lot trying to find the ring while Marianne walked over to Bog. 

A couple of Roland's guys were still holding him, but the icy stare she gave them had them letting go of Bog. Marianne hurried over wrapping one of her arms around his shoulders. 

“Think you can still drive?” 

Bog spat. Marianne noticed it was blood. His lips were cut and she caught a glimpse of blood on his teeth. “Yeah, I can drive.” 

Together they walked to his bike. “I could have handled it,” Bog muttered. 

Marianne frowned. “It was six to one! There was no way you could have won.” 

Bog cursed under his breath letting go of her and leaned against his bike for a moment, slipping off his jacket to roll out his cigarettes from his t-shirt. He hit the pack against his hand popping one out and pulled out his lighter from the front pocket of his jeans. He took a long drag on the cigarette, blowing out the smoke into the night air, ignoring the sting on his lips. 

Marianne watched him with concern. “Are you alright?” 

Bog winced a little, his lip swelling as he took another drag. “Aye, I'm fine. You ready?” 

She nodded. Bog held the cigarette between his teeth, slipping his jacket back on just before he got onto the bike. He held his hand out to her which Marianne took, holding his hand as she adjusted herself on the back of his bike and wrapped her arms around his middle. 

Bog took a long drag off his cigarette before tossing it to the pavement and crushing it under his boot. “Okay, hold on tight.” 

Marianne glanced back to where Roland and the others were, noticing they were gone. She nodded. “Okay, I'm ready.” She wrapped her arms around him; he smell good, she noticed. 

Bog grinned and kick started the bike, the sound of the motor loud and the rumble of the machine under her felt dangerous. Marianne grinned holding on tightly as Bog took off. 

“Where ya live?” Bog leaned back and yelled. Marianne leaned forward and yelled against his ear. “On the north side of town.” 

Bog frowned. “You mean where all those big houses are?” 

“Yes!” Her lips were practically pressed against his ear. Bog shivered a little. 

He drove through the almost deserted streets until, following her directions, he turned onto a tree lined street with some of the biggest trees he had ever seen. The houses on this street were equally big and beautiful. This was where all the money in the town lived, The Fields. That was what this area was called. Bog had only been here a handful of times. His mother worked as a maid for several of the houses, doing their cleaning, laundry, cooking, whatever household duties it was they were paying her for...Bog had driven her to work a few times when her car was at the shop. 

Bog pressed his lips together into a thin white line. He knew what these people thought about his mother and the other people like her; they looked down on everyone in this town who were not like them. 

Marianne felt Bog stiffen a little. She frowned, but soon they were coming up to her house. 

“Right there.” 

Bog pulled up, parking and turning the bike off so he could help her off. 

Bog frowned looking up at the house. It was huge, a castle really. 

“This where you live?!” He couldn't keep the awe out of his voice. 

Marianne blushed and nodded. “Yes. My dad works in real estate just like his dad before him...the house was actually built by my great grandfather.” 

Bog whistled. “Didn't realize you had money.” 

“My father has money.” Marianne said it with clear annoyance in her voice. Bog gave her a quizzical look. 

Marianne sighed. “Okay, I benefit from my dad's money, but I'm hoping someday to have a job and support myself.” 

Bog smiled. “Oh you wanna be one of those modern women? Not going to get married like yer expected to?” 

Marianne's face turned right red and she looked about ready to explode until Bog held his hands up. “Hey, hey teasing, my mom works—so I understand. My mom has always worked. Had to after my dad died.” 

Marianne made a small gasp. “I'm sorry.” 

Bog shrugged. “Don't be, things happen. Besides, between the bowling alley and my mom's day job, we keep things going.” 

They were both awkwardly quiet for a moment, not wanting to end their conversation while at the same time knowing it was late. 

“Thanks for everything tonight, Bog. Sorry Roland was such an idiot.” She started to reach out and touch his swollen lip but stopped herself, telling herself that was not an appropriate action with a guy she just met. 

Bog seemed not to have noticed the slight gesture as he shrugged. “You shouldn't apologize for him.” 

She put her hands behind her back, her hips moving back and forth which caused her skirt to flare out just a little. She looked adorable. Bog felt himself blush so he looked up at the night sky. 

“Well, ah...see ya next time you come bowling.” 

Marianne nodded. “Well, yeah...good night.” 

She started to go up toward her house. Bog sat there on his bike watching her go when Marianne turned around. 

“Hey, would you like to...I don't know...go get a soda sometime?” She couldn't believe she was being so forward, but she had this feeling if she didn't that Bog would never ask her...that he probably would never talk to her like this again until she did something drastic, like ask him out herself. Modern woman and all that. 

Bog looked surprised. “Ah..sure...want to hit that ice cream parlour on south street?” 

Marianne blushed, but grinned. “Sure.” 

Bog nodded...grinning. If she wasn't mistaken, Marianne was fairly sure he looked like he might be blushing.. 

“Okay well...see ya tomorrow?” He smiled and in the dim light of the street lamp she saw a hint of crooked teeth. 

“Yeah, that sounds great.” She grinned brightly hurrying into the house.


	2. Onion rings dipped in Chocolate Ice Cream

Marianne stood staring at herself in the mirror the next morning. She wore a pair of tiger print carpi pants with a black halter blouse along with a pair of black flatties. She chewed her bottom lip wondering if she looked over dressed or under dressed. She was about ready to change her outfit for the third time when she heard the rumble of a motorcycle outside. 

She dashed over to her window to look out and saw Bog kicking down the stand and turning off the bike. Her heart was beating hard as she watched him. He was dressed in a pair of denim jeans, a grey t-shirt and his leather jacket, his thick black hair slicked back in a duck tail, while a cigarette drooped from his lips. He looked tall and dangerous. He strolled up to the door, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Marianne felt her heart pick up speed. Instead of running to answer the door she simply followed him up the walk with her eyes. His long jean clad legs were damn sexy. Oh and those boots he was wearing, all scuffed and worn. 

Okay Marianne, don't flip your lid, she told herself. But she just couldn't keep the smile off her face as she gazed at Bog King. 

* 

She hadn't mentioned her break up with Roland last night to anyone. She also didn't mention Bog to anyone either. Though Dawn, who was very perceptive, had noticed the change in Marianne at breakfast that morning. 

When their father had left the kitchen to let the dog out Dawn had leaned in close. “Okay—what happened?” 

Marianne took a bite of scrambled eggs, her eyes wide and innocent. “What ya mean what happened?” 

Dawn narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Oh I can tell. Dish it.” Her little sister folded her arms over her chest. She looked cute in her baby blue poodle skirt with a happy white poodle on the front and thin white sweater. 

Marianne took a few more bites before she sighed under the intense glare of her little sister. 

“Okay fine. I broke up with Roland.” 

Dawn gasped. “You did?” 

“Yes, but...I met someone new.” Marianne blushed. 

Dawn whistled impressed at how fast her sister moved. “Who?” 

“You know the guy that runs the bowling alley?” Marianne took a sip of her juice. 

Dawn nodded. “The really tall guy with those incredible eyes?” 

Marianne blushed deeper. “Yeah, him.” 

“Oh wow Marianne!! He's a lot older than you isn't he?” Dawn's eyes were the size of dinner plates. ,p>“No...not that much. He's twenty-seven.” Marianne grinned. 

Dawn giggled. “So what's he like?” 

Marianne smiled softly. “He's really cool. He ride a motorcycle and has this cool leather jacket...” 

Both girls giggled, but then their father walked back into the room. He looked between his giggling daughters and sighed. He probably didn't want to know. 

* 

On the other side of town Bog had been pacing all morning. His dreams had been filled with Marianne. Some of the dreams had been innocent, but others...not so much. He had woke up aching and in desperate need of a cold shower. 

The worst part was that he looked worse than usual when he looked at himself in the mirror. The lip wasn't as swollen, but it was still busted, a scab forming over the cut and there was a slight bruise along his jaw that was turning purple. Nothing major, but the injuries certainly didn't improve his looks any. Bog ran his hands down his face with a loud groan. Why had he agreed to take her out for a soda? She couldn't possibly be interested in him, could she? He was seven years older than her, ugly, worked...didn't have any college education...no money... 

“Ugh!!” He groaned almost smashing his fist into the bathroom mirror. Instead he hit the wall. He only vaguely registered the pain. 

The next frustration was looking at his clothes hanging in the closet. He had nothing but jeans and a variety of colored t-shirts. The only dress clothes he owned were the ones he wore to his father's funeral. 

God, I am such a loser, he thought. Bog threw himself back onto his bed. He thought about not showing up, but the image of those brown eyes and that beautiful smile...the way she had asked him out... 

Bog covered his face with his hands. “I'm such an idiot!” he growled into the emptiness of his bedroom. 

* 

Now that Bog had arrived, Marianne started to run off to the front room to meet him, but then Marianne did a one-eighty rushing back to her room to look herself over in the mirror one last time. She just couldn't decide if her clothing was the right choice, but she gave herself a wink. 

“You got this Marianne.” She whispered to herself before she jogged down the hall to meet Bog. 

As she approached the front room she heard voices coming from the living room. One was clearly the light voice of her sister and the other was the deeper sound of her father and then there was a third voice, one that sent shivers down her spine—Bog. 

“And you are?” Came Marianne's father's voice. 

Marianne walked in just as Bog shook her father's hand. “Bog King, sir.” 

Marianne glanced between her father and Bog, her eyes darting to Dawn who was sitting with her knees on the couch leaning over the armrest with a wide grin watching everything with an air of expectation. 

Bog towered over her father though he held himself in such a way that he wasn't lording his height over her father. He smiled and seemed confident. 

“And you ride a motorcycle?” Her father asked after shaking Bog's hand, motioning Bog to come in before retaking his seat. Her father looked confused for a moment, glancing between Bog and Marianne when she entered the room. Clearly he realized he had missed something between Marianne going out last night with Roland, and now this young man who was here to pick her up. The other curious thing was that this young man had clearly been in a fight recently, judging by his split lip and the blossoming bruise along his jaw. Her father wasn't really sure how to react to this sudden change in young men in his eldest daughter's life, but she was twenty-one and he knew that if he made a scene he would only alienate his eldest daughter, so Dagda held his tongue. 

Bog nodded. “I do sir, it's a Vincent Black Shadow.” 

Her father blinked, his expression caught between impressed with the bike and a bit of worry. Dagda's expression decided to settle on worry as he gave Bog a frown. 

“A Vincent Black Shadow? Isn't that bike called a Biker Killer?” Her father, who had been smoking his pipe and reading the paper when Bog arrived, picked up his pipe and took a long pull, blowing out a line of smoke. 

It was clear, with a glance at Marianne, that her father had a million questions, but he respected her enough to save them...well most of them. 

Bog nodded. “Aye sir, it's been called that, but that's only, well if you don't mind me saying so, that's only because some riders don't know how to handle the bike. They abuse it and don't respect the machine, don't respect what it can do. If'n ye are going to own a bike with that kind of power then ye need to understand what that bike can do, and you don't abuse it. Just 'cause it can go as fast as it does it don't mean you go that fast..” 

Dagda smiled. “True. Very true.” 

Her father glanced at Marianne and took a breath. 

“Well, Bog, nice to meet you. You two have a good time.” Dagda looked concerned, but Marianne wrapped her arms around her father's neck giving him a tight hug. “See you later Daddy.” 

Bog stepped forward again taking her father's hand. “Don't worry sir, I would never do anything to put Marianne in any kind of danger.” 

Dadga nodded. “Thank you, Bog.” 

Marianne put her arm through Bog's, grabbing her sweater from the closet and steered him toward the front door. “See you later Daddy! Dawn!” 

With that the two of them headed out the door. 

* 

As they stepped outside, Bog grinned walking her to his bike. “You look cute.” 

Marianne laughed. “Just what any girl wants to hear!” 

Bog chuckled. “You do though.” As they approached his bike, Marianne noticed a helmet hanging off the bars. Bog let go of her arm and stepped over to pick up the helmet. 

“Your father seemed to...handle me alright. Did you tell him about me?” 

Marianne smiled. “No. I didn't tell him about dumping Roland and grabbing a soda with a different guy.” 

As Bog handed her the helmet his eyes widened in surprise. “You are different.” 

She laughed. “You have no idea.” 

She held the helmet up inspecting it. Bog shrugged. “I figured if you were going to be riding with me it was a good idea to keep ye safe.” 

The helmet was a black leather half-helmet with straps that came over the ears to buckle under the chin. It was also equipped with goggles. Marianne grinned putting the helmet on top of her head. Bog smiled at her as he moved to help her with the straps. Marianne suddenly went very still as Bog adjusted the helmet leaning in close enough that she could smell him, and he smelled really good, a combination of cigarette smoke and spice of some kind; man smell was the only what she could think to describe it. She tried not to stare, but her eyes were immediately drawn to his lips, pressed together in concentration as he adjusted the helmet straps to fit her. Even with the split in them, his lips were nicely shaped. 

His fingers were brushing against her chin, her jaw. When he was finished adjusting the straps, his eyes glanced up into hers. All Marianne could think of was that she could fall into those eyes. His eyes made her remember a section of a poem by Keats she had read, her mind reciting the words: 

“Blue! 'T is the life of waters-oceans And all its vassal streams: pools numberless May rage, and form, and fret but never can Subside, if not to dark-blue nativeness...” 

Bog stepped back from her blushing. “Ready?” 

Marianne nodded her helmeted head. “Ah...yeah...yes I mean. I'm ready.” 

Bog nodded getting on the bike (which she also found to be a very sexy move). He reached behind him; Marianne placed her hand in his using him to balance as she got on the back of his bike. Once she was comfortable she wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling the bike rumble to life. 

* 

They headed to the ice cream parlour which was just starting to buzz with the lunch crowd coming in, mostly young people since it was a Saturday. Bog parked his bike, getting a few looks, some envious (mostly guys looking at his bike and girl with clear jealousy in their eyes), and a few disgusted stares. Bog got off his bike and took Marianne's hand helping her off before leaning down to help her with the helmet. She tried not to react this time to the feel of his fingertips brushing across her chin or against her cheek. 

Once he had worked the straps of the helmet loose, he hung it on the bike. Despite her best efforts, his touch seemed to cause a ripple of heat to roam all over her body. Bog was concentrating on not letting his hands shake as he helped remove her helmet. She smelled like a meadow of flowers in summer and each time he touched her skin, she felt soft and creamy. His eyes would wander down to her lips; the urge to kiss them was strong enough that he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from doing anything stupid. 

Marianne grinned running her fingers through her short hair once the helmet was off. 

“My hair must be a mess! I didn't think about wearing the helmet.” She blushed. 

Bog smiled at her. “You look beautiful.” His cheeks flamed red. “I mean...ah..yeah...” 

Marianne took his hand. “Thank you Bog.” 

He stared at her, then down at their joined hands. He could have stayed right there, like this forever..her tiny hand in his... 

“Want to go inside?” Marianne asked when Bog didn't move. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure, sorry...” Bog shook his head with embarrassment and, still holding hands, they walked inside. 

* 

Walking into the parlor holding hands, the two of them got more than a few looks. Bog, tall, dark, wearing a leather jacket, his hair slicked back, every inch the biker—a rebel against society—holding hands with Marianne, petite, beautiful, clearly from money. They looked strange together. But there were several people inside the joint who knew Marianne Summerfield was dating Roland Knight...The sight of her with not just a different guy, but an older guy had tongues wagging. Everyone wanted to know what had happened between Marianne and Roland and if she was now out with this guy? The gossip flew! 

* 

The parlor itself was more of a diner though they had an ice cream bar at the front. The inside of the place was white and red checked with red stools along the counter, a jukebox in the corner and several booths, with red seats and white tables along the large window in the front. Bog found them an empty booth, gently guiding Marianne with a hand at the small of her back, just barely touching her. 

As she slipped in on her side of the booth Bog asked. “So, what would you like?” 

Bog took his jacket off at the same time and for a moment Marianne was at a loss for words watching the reveal of Bog's lean muscled arms. She saw he had a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of his t-shirt, a t-shirt that fit him marvelously. Marianne was suddenly very aware of how nicely built Bog King was under that shirt. Wow! 

Marianne distracted herself looking out the window. What the heck was wrong with her? She had never felt such...lust before. 

Bog frowned. “Marianne?” 

She turned back to look at him. “Oh, yeah...ah...” She grabbed for the plastic menu that had been sitting on the table using it to cover her embarrassment and to shield herself from lustfully staring at Bog. 

A waitress chose that moment to come over, dressed in a red and white gingham outfit, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “What can I get you guys?” She was all smiles. 

Marianne didn't look at the menu she was holding in front of her. 

“Ah, burger, onion rings and a chocolate shake.” 

Bog smiled. “Same for me.” 

“Okay, be out in a jiffy!” The waitress turned with a flounce and walked off to put in their order. 

Marianne smiled, setting the menu down and running her hands over it. “You ever dip your onion rings in your shake?” 

Bog frowned with a raised eyebrow. “Nooo...is that something you do?” 

She nodded. “Yep.” 

Bog laughed. “Okay, well I guess I'll have to try it.” 

They shared a nervous laugh, but then they sat there in an awkward quiet. Bog glanced out the window, drumming his long fingers on the table not sure what to do. He wasn't sure what to talk about, what questions to ask. He felt foolish. He should not be here with a girl like this...she deserved someone...well, like her, from money. She deserved someone who was handsome, refined...not a guy who ran a bowling alley and rode a motorcycle. Girls like her rode in fancy cars and went to expensive parties, not eating hamburgers with some...loser. 

Marianne watched his fingers. They were so long, elegant really. “You play an instrument?” 

Bog jumped a little startled out of his mental listing of all his faults. “What?” 

“Do you play a musical instrument?” she asked again. 

“Ah...well yeah...I mean a little. I play guitar.” Bog looked down at the table running the tip of his fingers against the white background. 

Marianne beamed. “Really? Wow. I...well I took some lessons once, but...” She shrugged. 

Bog glanced up at her and before his mind could catch up with his heart he said. 

“If you want I could give you lessons.” 

The moment the words were out of his mouth Bog could have smacked himself in the face. 

“You would?” Marianne smiled. 

Bog rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah...yeah...I mean sure.” 

He was saved from further embarrassing himself by the waitress coming back with their food. 

Marianne smiled. “Oh, that smells good.” 

Bog nodded. “Aye, they have damn good burgers here.” 

He closed his eyes...damn it...cursing in front of her already?!! 

Marianne was momentarily thrown off by the cursing but she didn't say anything as she picked up an onion ring and immediately dipped it into her shake. 

Bog, who had just taken a bite out of his burger to stop himself from saying anything else stupid, stopped mid-chew watching her. It wasn't just want she was doing with her food was a little odd...but she stuck her tongue out to catch a drop of ice cream...her tongue was very distracting. He felt himself turning red. 

She giggled. “Try it, seriously.” 

Bog swallowed and gave her a suspicious look, but he was grinning as he picked up his onion ring and dipped it in the chocolate. 

* 

Neither one of them noticed the car that parked outside. A Dodge Royal Lance convertible pulled up, painted in white and yellow driven by Roland Knight. Someone at the diner had seen Marianne arrive with Bog and ran to a phone booth to call Roland and let him know. 

Roland parked, jumping over the side instead of opening the door of his car. In the back Roland had a couple of his buddies from school, Biff, Ronald and Dan. Roland leaned over to look at himself in the side mirror, adjusting his hair and checking his teeth before he stood up and ran his hands down the grey and brown striped collared, button-down shirt he was wearing along with a pair of brown, high-waisted pleaded pants. 

The girls around him and his “gang” (all of them dressed in similar fashion to Roland), had the girls hanging out outside the diner giggling and whispering to each. Roland smiled winking at them which sent the girls into a tizzy. Roland turned to his friends. “You guys know what to do?” 

“Yeah Roland.” Biff spoke up. “You get that creep to come out here and we pound him into next week.” 

Roland grinned. “That's right. I'll be back with our punching bag.” 

* 

Bog had just stuck the ring in his mouth, his expression showing he was ready to be sick, but instead he grinned, chewing and swallowing. 

“Hey, that's not half bad.” 

Marianne grinned in triumph. Bog chuckled. Marianne laughed right along with him dipping the other half of her onion ring in the ice cream. 

“The look on your face was priceless!” She laughed, but then froze, her eyes widening as she saw Roland walk in. 

“Marianne?” Bog frowned at the sudden change in her expression. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing Roland saunter over over to them. 

“Bloody hell,” Bog muttered.


	3. Little Things Mean a Lot

Bog narrowed his eyes, watching Roland saunter over to their table. The blonde man had his hands buried in the pockets of his slacks, a bright grin with his perfect teeth, on his perfect face. 

Bog muttered, “Well here comes Bad News.” 

Marianne quickly looked up and over, her brown eyes going wide when she saw her ex-boyfriend. 

“He is such an actor,” she snarled quietly. 

Roland stopped at their booth, leaning against the table with his hip. He winked at Marianne as he ran a hand over his hair and leaned toward Marianne, acting as if Bog wasn't there at all. 

“Hey there Buttercup, whatch'a doing here with this candy ass?” Roland flashed his perfect smile at her motioning toward Bog with his head. 

“Especially when you could be hanging out with me.” Roland had the gall to wink at Marianne yet again! Marianne felt her stomach roil and her hands balling into fists. Several terribly unladylike words went through her mind, all of which she wanted to say, but she had been brought up to be a lady. From the corner of her eye, she saw Bog move. 

Bog started to stand, his expression murderous, but Marianne reached across the table and laid her hand against his arm giving him a light squeeze, her gaze settling back on Roland. 

“Roland, I broke up with you.” Marianne let go of Bog's arm only so she could cross her arms over her chest, glaring up at Roland. The look on her face suggested that he was a bug that she wanted to crush. 

“Oh come on, Marianne! You're doing to dump me for this greaser? Are you serious?” Roland looked confused, pulling out a comb and running it through his blonde hair, which made Marianne roll her eyes. 

“Roland, get lost,” she hissed turning to look at Bog and ignore Roland. Roland, who was not used to being ignored, reached out and made a grab for Marianne's hand...which was his second mistake, the first being walking in the diner in the first place. 

Bog stood up then, towering over Roland. “Ya heard the lady, get lost ye flake. She don't want ye to lay a hand on her and if you touch her I'm going to break yer face!” His accent became thicker with his slowly burning rage. 

Roland glared. “Oh yeah, you gunna make me, ya panty waste. Marianne is my girl.” 

Bog snarled stepping out of the booth now. “Marianne is her own girl you loser! And if'n you wanna fight come say that to my face ya nosebleed.” 

* 

Everyone in the diner had stopped what they were doing, all eyes on Marianne, Bog and Roland. 

* 

Roland took several steps back, stumbling to get out of Bog's way as Bog seemed to move him like a force of nature without laying a hand on him. Bog stepped in front of him, and thumped Roland hard in the chest with the back of his fingers. Marianne stood too, though she did nothing to stop Bog. She hated to admit it, but part of her was hoping that Bog would punch Roland in the face! 

“You cruisin' for a bruise big guy?” Bog hissed as he thumped his knuckles on Roland's chest again while he maneuvered Roland backwards, slowly, his long legs forcing the shorter man to take several backwards steps. Bog kept moving, leading Roland through the diner while everyone stared in silence; the blonde man stumbled backwards, patrons getting out of his way as the two men made their way through the center of the diner toward the front doors. 

“Why don't you hop back in that jalopy of yours and go find some elementary school kids to terrify,” Bog snarled. 

Roland stumbled backwards into the diner's door, his green eyes wide in terror, Bog leaning over him like a great dark shadow. 

Bog grinned at him, his crooked teeth looking sharp and almost fang-like. He gave Roland the middefinger grinning as he said. 

“Climb it, Tarzan.” 

Bog reached out toward Roland which made Roland squeak very loudly and cringe, sounding like the biggest mouse. Roland brought up his arms to protect his face when he thought Bog was going to hit him, but instead Bog reached over the top of Roland's head and pushed the diner doors open. The sudden opening of the glass doors caused Roland to stumble backwards onto his ass. Everyone, both inside and out, started laughing. Bog simply turned and walked back towards Marianne, not bothering to give Roland a second look as he made his way to Marianne. 

Marianne was chuckling, her hand over her mouth as she stood next to her booth watching Bog walking back toward her. 

“I thought you were going to slug him!” She giggled. 

“Believe me, I wanted to, but...nah...guy like that isn't worth my time.” Bog smiled at her. Marianne smiled in return, but then Marianne startled him as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. The tall man turned bright red as she pressed her head against his chest. Marianne smiled closing her eyes. He smelled of cigarette smoke, motor oil and some indescribable spice that was realized was erotic. Marianne let him go, smiling up at him, though her hands remained resting on his chest. Bog had to quickly look away, step back from her and slip into his seat to cover his embarrassment. Marianne smiled taking in his obvious embarrassment. He really is adorable, she thought to herself. 

“So ah...where were we?” Bog asked hoping the blush had faded. 

Marianne smiled, the reddening of his cheeks only made her like him even more. 

“You were complimenting me on my culinary genius.” 

Bog laughed. “Oh yeah.” 

* 

Outside Roland's guys rushed over to help him up. Roland was spitting like an angry wet cat. 

“How dare he!!! That! That SPAZ!” 

Roland could hear people were still snickering while he dusted himself off. Now he was in a panic to “redeem” himself. He was the cool guy! The guy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be!! No one made a fool of him! No one laughed at Roland Knight! 

The wheels in Roland's mind were immediately turning as he tried desperately to come up with a way to make himself look like a champ again. But then Roland's angry, embarrassed gaze settled on Bog's motorcycle. Roland slowly grinned. 

“I'm going to teach that jerk a lesson. Come on.” 

Roland motioned for his group of friends to get into his car. He started the engine with a nasty grin, pulling the car out hard enough that the tires were spitting gravel and turned his car around to face the bike. He narrowed his eyes at Bog's bike, yelling at the top of his lungs. 

“Get out of the way!!” 

His shouted warning sent people in the parking lot running for safety. Then he floored it. His car leapt forward causing anyone watching outside to scream and yell jumping out of the way (if they hadn't moved before). Roland rammed his car into Bog's bike. 

* 

Marianne laughed leaning over to feed Bog an onion ring, her eyes twinkling. She watched him take the bite, her eyes focused on his lips and teeth in a very unladylike fashion. She was completely distracted by Bog's mouth when they heard the screams and yells of people outside. Then they heard the crash of metal. Bog turned to look out the window, his eyes going wide when he saw Roland hit his bike. 

Bog leapt to his feet yelling. “FUCK!” Which had everyone in the diner gasping in shock at the foul language. Bog ran out of the diner with Marianne following right behind, just as Roland's car ran over his bike a second time before he backed up and yelled. 

“SEE YA LATER ALLIGATOR!!” Roland gave Bog the finger before he peeled out of the diner parking lot with him and his friends laughing. 

Bog ignored them as he raced over to the remains of his bike. He stood there staring at it, his heart sinking. He muttered sorrowfully, “That took nearly a year and a half of saving and scrimping for that bike. Everything I had.” 

Bog's jaw clinched. Marianne could see the muscles working under the surface of his skin just before he kicked the remains of his bike hard, then again, and then one more time as he growled out, “That fucking...fucking...” 

Marianne jogged up behind Bog putting her hand on his arm. “Oh Bog...” 

He looked a couple of deep breaths before he ran a hand over his face letting out a long sigh. Marianne could hear the slight shudder in his breath. 

“Bog? I'm...I”m so sorry...” she whispered. 

Bog turned around and smiled sadly at her. “Ain't your fault tough girl. It's his...all his...” 

Marianne took his hand weaving her fingers with his and squeezing his hand. 

“I feel...responsible Bog. I mean, I knew Roland was a jerk, but I never would have thought he would be so mean.” 

Bog was still staring at the bike as he whispered, “Don't you feel responsible....this is not your fault.” 

“But if it wasn't for me...” Marianne frowned, but then Bog turned her to face him and with his free hand he gently cupped her cheek. “It's not your fault. I would take you out no matter how many bikes that jerk ran over.” 

Marianne blushed looking into those blue eyes. He stroked his thumb over her lips, just barely touching them before he sighed turning to look once more at the destroyed bike. 

Bog took another steadying breath. “I need to call my friend Brutus; he has a pick-up, he can help me get this out of here and back home. You want me to call you a cab driver?” he asked softly not looking at her. 

“No. I want to stay with you,” Marianne replied as she took his hand in hers. Bog turned his head to look at her in surprise. “Really?” 

She kept a hold of his hand, but elbowed him in the side. “Yes, really.” 

Bog smiled and blushed. “Okay.” 

* 

Bog walked over to the corner phone booth, Marianne holding his hand as she walked beside him. He was thankful for her support, the sweet simple gesture of her holding his hand was more than he ever expected. There was something wonderful about having this gorgeous woman holding the hand of someone like him, a poor, ugly man. When Bog made the phone call, Marianne stood in the open doorway of the phone booth smiling at him while he placed the call to his pal Brutus. She was distracting, standing there looking fantastic. His eyes kept wandering over to her, a faint blush across his angular cheeks. When he pulled the coin out of his pocket to call he nearly dropped it when she leaned her hip against the door frame of the booth. She was so damn beautiful, but somehow he managed to make the call and talk to Brutus without stuttering. 

After Bog made the call, they walked back to the diner and sat on the edge of the sidewalk next to the remains of his bike. Bog pulled out a cigarette. 

“Want one?” He leaned over and offered her one by tapping the pack against his palm, one cigarette peaking over the rest. 

She smiled. “No thanks—you go ahead.” 

Bog nodded putting the pack away after pulling out one and holding it between his lips She watched while he held the cigarette between his teeth, pulling out the matches and striking one before holding the flame to the cigarette, his hands cupped over it. Marianne studied Bog while he puffed on the cigarette a few times getting the fire going on the end. For some reason she found watching him lighting up...sexy. 

He took a long drag on the cigarette, then took it out from between his lips, holding it between two fingers while he blew out a stream of smoke. Marianne watched with a mesmerized expression that Bog didn't notice. 

“Sorry again about your bike.” Marianne pulled her knees up wrapping her arms around her legs and setting her chin on her knees. 

Bog snorted. “That wasn't you...that was all him. He just couldn't be a man and walk away, had to try and stick it to me...well, I don't take that kind of thing lying down.” Bog's accent thickened just slightly as he stared at the remains of his bike. 

Marianne smiled. “You going to beat him up?” 

Bog glanced sideways at her a little surprised by the question. “You want me to?” 

She giggled, pressing her mouth against her knees before she answered. “Yeah I do, but I don't want you in jail either.” 

Bog snorted, blowing smoke out his nose like a dragon. “I don't want to go to jail either, but there 's nothing legal I can do to him that would make up for this...” 

Bog's voice was a soft growl. 

They were quiet for a bit when Bog murmured, “You think that panty waste would race for pinks?” 

“Race?” Marianne frowned. “I...you know if you insulted his ego enough, yeah I think he would.” 

Bog grinned slowly. “I could take that car of his then...” 

“But do you have a car that could beat him?” Marianne asked, genuinely interested in a street race. She had heard about them, but never seen one. She didn't know if Roland had ever actually been in one, but he had talked about them too. Always acted like he had been racing all his life. 

Bog grinned. “I know where I could get a car...” 

“Really? What kind of car is it?” Marianne turned a bit. 

Bog grinned. “This car can really lay a patch! It's a converted 1937 Buick Eight that my Da had...me and some of my pals been working on it, turning it into a real racer...I know I could take Roland in it.” 

Marianne giggled imagining the embarrassment to Roland if he had to sign his car over to Bog. 

“Do it!” Marianne giggled. 

Bog grinned at her, clamping the cigarette between his teeth. “Yeah...let's do it!” 

* 

It took almost an hour for Brutus to show up. During that time Bog had given Marianne some money to go grab them each a soda (they both agreed that Bog probably shouldn't go back in after cursing like that). They were sitting close, Marianne leaning against Bog, the two of them just talking about cars, racing, the weather...simply enjoying each others company, when Bog saw Brutus pulling up. Brutus drove a bright red Chevy pick-up. Marianne wasn't sure what she was expecting; Brutus was a big bald man with a cheerful face and ready grin who was waving enthusiastically as he pulled up. 

He leaned out his window. “Hey Bog....” 

Then he whistled when he saw the bike. “Oh...damn.” 

Bog stood taking Marianne's hand and helping her to her feet. “Yeah...it's pretty bad.,” he agreed. 

Brutus stepped out of the truck staring down at the bike. “We might still be able to fix it.” 

Bog frowned. “Ya think?” 

Brutus grinned. “Yeah.” Then he turned seeming to just now notice Marianne. “Who's this?” 

Bog flushed. “Oh sorry, Brutus. This is Marianne—Marianne this is an old friend of mine, Brutus.” 

Brutus took her offered hand as Marianne smiled. “Hi Brutus.” 

“Wow, you sure are a looker! Why you hanging around this loser?” Brutus chuckled and kissed her knuckles. 

Marianne chuckled at the big man. “Because I like him.” 

Brutus laughed as he released her hand and looked at Bog. “Finally found a girl to put up with you?” 

Bog blushed, his voice stern. “Brutus.” 

“Hey just kidding!” Brutus grinned then looked down at Marianne. “He's a great guy. I just like giving him a hard time. But seriously, you couldn't ask for a better man.” 

Marianne smiled at Bog. “I'm beginning to learn that.” 

Brutus turned back to the bike. “So what exactly happened?” 

It was Marianne who spoke. “My ex-boyfriend did this.” 

Brutus whistled. “Damn...” 

Marianne nodded. “Yeah. Bog is going to challenge him to a race for pinks though.” 

Brutus looked at Bog and grinned. “Really?” 

Bog nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Brutus laughed. “Hot damn! Been wondering when you were going to take that car out!” 

* 

Within half an hour, they had Bog's bike—and any loose pieces—loaded into the back, the three of them in the pick-up with Marianne sitting between the men. Marianne gave Brutus directions to her house. 

When they arrived, Bog stepped out of the truck, took her hand and helped her out. She hopped down, but she didn't let go of Bog's hand once she was out of the truck. 

Bog held her hand as he stared down at her. “I enjoyed spending time with you Marianne...despite the bike and Roland.” 

Marianne laughed smiling up at him. “I did too.” 

Bog swallowed and pressed his lips together. He still held her hand, but it was clear he was nervous. Marianne just stood there looking up at him waiting. Bog glanced sideways to see Brutus motioning him to say something. Bog took a breath looking back at Marianne. He really didn't want to let her go, he wanted to spend more time with her, to see her again... 

“Would...ah...would you...like to come to the bowling alley tonight after close? Ah...we could play a game without anyone there...I mean—if you want to? You don't have to! I don't want you to feel like you have to because of the bike. But, if you want to...” 

Bog could have kicked himself, he sounded so stupid! 

Marianne's grinned brightened. “Yes! I would love that Bog!” 

Bog jerked in shock. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Marianne's smile was like the sun coming out, beaming through the rain clouds and Bog's heart swelled just gazing at her. 

“Ah...oka...ummm. .I'll ah...borrow my Mam's car and pick you up around 9 maybe 9:30 pm?” Bog asked shyly. 

Marianne smiled. “I look forward to seeing you tonight Bog.” 

Bog grinned, his cheeks red, but he quickly leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before jumping into the truck next to Brutus. 

“See ya tonight!” 

Marianne giggled waving as Brutus turned the truck around, Bog leaning out the window and waving back at her until she couldn't see him. 

She giggled with excitement. This was going to be a blast! As she turned around to go back inside, she rubbed her cheek where he had kissed her. The spot was warm, spreading through her body and making the butterflies in her stomach dance with expectation.


	4. All I have to do is Dream

Bog had never worked so quickly to clean up, rushing around to make sure every surface shined. It was also the quickest he had forced all the patrons out of the bowling alley at closing, although remaining as polite as he could while ushering the people towards the front doors. 

Bog even hurried the rest of the staff along, which had everyone asking questions until Bog lost his temper, which immediately shut everyone up. 

“All right guys—you get what you need to done then out please. I got things to do!” 

Thang frowned. “But Bog...” 

Bog turned and glared at Thang and snarled a little as he hissed. “Everyone. Go home.” 

Thang stared then threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, going, going!” 

* 

When he finally had the place to himself, Bog had his cigarette dangling from his lips as he did a quick once over of the place, making sure it was spotless. He was also trying to distract himself from the fact that he was pretty darn nervous. He really liked Marianne and he was terrified of messing up. Girls like Marianne didn't go out with guys like him. They went out with guys like...well...Roland. 

Bog chewed on the end of his cigarette and walked over to the supply closet to pull out the dust mop, thinking to give the floors one more quick mop before he went to pick up Marianne. He stopped at the jukebox, dropped a couple of dimes into the machine and hit a tune. The jukebox began playing Elvis Presely's “Jailhouse Rock” while Bog started to push the mop around the floor. The beat and rich sound of Presley's voice filled the bowling alley as Bog worked. 

“...Let's rock everybody, let's rock 

Everybody in the whole cell block 

Was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock ...” 

He didn't realize he was dancing to the music; he was simply mopping, but he was soon swinging his hips and using the mop handle like a microphone. He was completely distracted when his mother walked in, Bog's thin hips moving while he spun the dust mop out, leaning into the handle like a microphone, his own clear and strong voice rising above Elvis's as Bog sang along. 

“Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone 

Little Joe was blowin' on the slide trombone 

The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang 

The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang...” 

Griselda grinned and leaned in the doorway that led into the building while watching her son dance and sing to the music. He still continued to polish the floors, his cigarette creating a halo of smoke around him. He moved across the floor, gliding with an easy elegance that would make Fred Astaire jealous. 

She hadn't seen her boy this happy in a long time. Bog had stopped by her room earlier this evening to ask her for the car tonight, reluctantly telling her how he had a date and that they were going to be bowling here at the alley. Griselda had thought it odd that Bog wasn't using his motorcycle but she figured he simply didn't want to pick up this girl on a bike. 

Griselda walked over to the jukebox quietly. ,Bog was swinging his hips, putting that young star Elvis to shame just as she gave the box a strange combination of hits with her fist on the front of it, causing it to stop playing. 

Bog turned startled when the music stopped, about ready to curse up a storm when he saw his mother. “Oh hey Mam.” He grinned, embarrassed. 

She smiled. Every time Bog smiled he looked like his father. Bog had his father's build, and his heart. She missed her husband, but it was nice to see him reflected in the vision of their son. She put her hands on her hips. Griselda wore a blue and white striped shirt dress, a simple look that Bog thought made his mother look younger than her sixty-two years. 

Griselda grinned as she leaned against the jukebox. “So, she must be someone special, eh? I mean you always keep this place spotless, but I've never seen you clean to this extent...and you drove everyone out in record time.” 

Bog, who had gone back to polishing the floors as a distraction, blushed red enough that his mother could see the red tips of his ears despite the distance between them. 

“Yeah Mam, she is...she is one of those girls that is...she is like an angel.” Bog's voice held a soft, dreamy tone to it. He stood and leaned against the dust mop's handle, but he quickly straightened up and returned to mopping. 

“But, I mean, we're just friends...nothing but friends.” Bog spoke quietly while pushing the dust mop aggressively across the floor. 

“If you say so dear.” Griselda chuckled softly. “Right. Okay, well the car is up front. Your aunt is picking me up for some poker with the girls.” 

Bog chuckled. “I hope you win big tonight, Mam.” 

Griselda shot her son a grin. “I got my lucky socks on.” She winked and waved at her son as she walked out. 

* 

Marianne's closet looked as if it had exploded for a second time in only a handful of days. Marianne stood in the middle of the piles of clothing, wearing only her bra and undies, chewing her nails while her record player emitted the mellow tunes of the Dungaree Darlings “Little Wallflower.” She had a sizable quantity of dresses and skirts (most of which were currently on the floor, bed, or draped across her vanity), but none of them felt right to wear bowling. She had a few capris pants, but that didn't seem right either. She was about to give up in despair when she heard a knock at her door. 

“It's me!” Marianne heard her little sister on the other side of the door. 

“Come in.” Marianne threw herself onto her bed to stare at her ceiling. The door opened and Dawn slipped in. She stopped for a heartbeat and then closed the door slowly behind her as she looked at the mess of Marianne's room. 

“Need help?” Dawn asked with a slight giggle. 

“I don't' know what to wear!! Everything is just—just so square!” Marianne groaned and threw an arm over her face in despair. 

Dawn chuckled as she flopped down next to her older sister. “Are we going to go through this every time you go on a date with Bog? Because I really don't think your wardrobe can handle being thrown around every time...especially with you guys getting serious.” 

Marianne pouted. “Probably.” Then she blushed with a grin, her lips the only thing visible from under her arm. 

Dawn laughed. “Marianne, he likes you for you, not how cool you are, or square you are...or not. He likes you. He's really gone on you, can't you tell?” 

Marianne glanced over at her sister, her blush still in place. “You think so?” 

“I know so. He fell hard and fast. What about you?” Dawn rolled onto her side to face her sister. 

Marianne took a breath. “I think...he's wicked cool and handsome and different and...” 

Dawn laughed. “Yeah, you're gone.” 

The sisters giggled together. Dawn smiled. “Roland never made you smile like Bog does.” 

“It just seems so fast, you know?” Marianne rolled onto her side so that she was facing Dawn. 

Dawn shrugged. “Hey, who says there's a particular speed to falling in love?” 

With that Dawn pushed herself up to her feet. “So, you two are doing some after hours bowling?” 

Marianne sat up. “Yep.” 

“Okay...that is so cool.” Dawn walked over to the closet and started going through the clothes still in the closet before she shifted to examining what was scattered about the room. 

“I know just the thing,” Dawn said with a confident nod. 

* 

Within minutes Dawn had Marianne dressed in a pair of navy blue houseboy pants, a collared, deep purple, short-sleeved top and a pair of saddle shoes. Dawn curled Marianne's hair and placed a ribbon in it that matched her top. Dawn looked at her sister's reflection in the mirror over the top of her head. 

“You look adorable,” Dawn affirmed with a broad grin. 

“You think Bog will like it?” Marianne asked, her brown eyes wide with nervousness. 

“Marianne, look at you! Of course he will!” Dawn squeezed her sister's shoulders. “Besides, you could show up in a potato sack and he would swoon.” 

Marianne giggled with a blush, just imagining that picture for a moment. That was when they both heard the sound of a car's motor turning off in the driveway, followed by the heavy sound of a car door shutting. Then the sound of a knock at the front door. Marianne grinned and stood up just as their father's voice called from down the hall. 

“Marianne.” 

The two young women hurried from Marianne's room, heading to the front of the house to find Bog standing awkwardly by the front door. He was wearing his leather bike jacket, jeans and a t-shirt, his hair having been freshly done in a duck tail, a dark curl over his forehead. The sight of him had Marianne's heart hammering and rivers of heat flowing through her body like she had never felt before. Then his eyes widened with pleasure at the sight of her. He smiled and if she could have swooned right there, she would have, the way he looked at her...Marianne smiled in return her heart dancing. 

* 

Bog's mind went blank for a moment when Marianne walked down the hall toward him. She looked more than beautiful...beautiful seemed like such a pale word to use to describe Marianne Summerfield. Bog swallowed hard in an attempt to calm himself. She was...a vision. 

* 

Marianne's father, who stood to the side slightly, grinned when he saw the way the two of them looked at each other. To see the way Bog King looked at his daughter and the way his eldest daughter looked at Bog, it was clear to Dagda that this guy...this guy was the one.There was clearly something more between them, something that reminded Dagda of the moment he fell in love with the girls' mother. Marianne had never looked at Roland like that and Bog was clearly head over heels in love with his eldest daughter. 

Bog may not have been everything a father would have picked for his daughter, but Dagda certainly couldn't deny the feelings these two seemed to share. Besides, unlike Roland, Bog King owned a business, worked...and there was something—mature about the young man that Dagda respected. If this young man came asking for his daughter's hand, at some point, he would probably say yes. 

Dagda grinned and gestured toward Bog. “Bog here says you two are going bowling at his bowling alley. That sounds fun.” 

Marianne blushed. “Yeah, it does.” 

“Well, you two have a good time.” Her father shook Bog's hand and said with narrowed eyes, but a smile on his lips, “Don't have her out too late.” 

“I won't sir.” Bog smiled in return. Marianne walked over and slipped her hand into Bog's; she took a moment to lace her fingers with his giving his hand a quick squeeze. The way he looked down at her had Marianne's heart doing a full somersault. 

“Ready Bog?” she asked with a smile. 

“Uh...yeah. Good night, Mr. Summerfield.” Bog smiled. 

Dagda waved. “Night you two, have fun.” 

* 

Once they were on their way, driving Griselda's black 1940's Ford Continental, Bog pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and rolled his window down—smoking helped calm his nerves. 

“You okay?” Marianne asked turning in her seat to face him. 

Bog nodded. “Yeah, just...” He chuckled. “I'm sorry, I'm nervous.” 

Marianne blushed slightly, a smile blossoming across her lips. “Me too.” 

They both laughed then. Bog leaned over and turned on the radio, the sounds of Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers singing “I Want You to be My Girl” filled the small space between them. Bog absently tapped his fingers to the music while he drove to the bowling alley. Marianne smiled softly studying him, his sharp profile, the way he drove with quiet confidence, his one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out the window with his cigarette, the delightful curl over his forehead. She swooned again. She felt like a teenager, but Bog made her feel all...gooey inside. 

Bog pulled down the street that led to the bowling alley when the next song came on, The Mello Kings. 

“Oh I like this song.” Marianne grinned. 

Bog had his cigarette in his mouth, glanced over and lifted his eyebrows. He took it out to blow smoke out the window. “Really?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, I know what it's about it, but I like it just the same.” 

Bog chuckled. Then with a wide grin he began to sing. 

* 

“Tonite, tonite more than any time before 

This hea-ah-art of mine seems to need you so much more 

The touch of your lips, the thrill of your embrace 

Keep saying that no one will ever take your place...” 

* 

Marianne blinked in surprise. His voice was...amazing. She grinned. “Oh my goodness Bog! Your voice is incredible!” 

Bog blushed beet-red and waved her off. “Nah, but thank ye,” his accent thickening with his nervousness and embarrassment. Marianne was about to say more when he pulled in at the bowling alley. Bog turned the engine off hopping out of the vehicle a little quickly. Marianne giggled to herself watching him dash around the car, sliding across the hood, and slow down once he was at her door. He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out with his boot before he opened her car door for her. 

As soon as she was out of the car, Marianne took his hand with a smile. Bog returned her smile, walking her to the back entrance of the alley. Holding her hand made him feet ten feet tall. 

* 

It was strange, Marianne thought, to walk into the bowling alley after closing. The lights were on, but the place had this eerie quality as if it were simply waiting, with baited breath, for all the patrons to return and bring life back to it. 

Bog walked her over to one of the lanes. “Everything is set up. That purple ball is for you. I remembered what weight you used.” Bog smiled with a hint of a blush. “I'll ah...go get the bowling shoes.” 

“Thank you!” Marianne called after him. She sat down and proceeded to removed her saddle shoes. She wore a pair of white ankle socks with her shoes. 

Bog made his way to the shelves where the shoes were kept. Earlier, he had set a pair of bowling shoes on the counter for her. These shoes were new; no one had ever worn them. He had his own set of large sized shoes sitting on the counter next to hers. Bog frowned with a slight shake of his head. His shoes looked like clown shoes next to the tiny shoes that were for Marianne. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, then pushed his nervousness down and reached for the shoes. 

The bowling shoes he had for Marianne were special. He had ordered them weeks ago; just because...not for any special reason, he told himself, but his inner voice knew that he had always ordered them for Marianne as something special. Just for her, even if he refused to admit it openly. He had done it just because, even though she was dating Roland and, at the time, he was sure she would never look twice at him. It was stupid...a pair of bowling shoes. But it was all he could do...Bog groaned at himself. “Idiot,” he muttered with another shake of his head. 

Bog slipped out of his jacket and tossed it over the counter as he picked up the bowling shoes and hurried back over to where Marianne sat primly, her hands folded on her lap and her feet resting on her toes, waiting. 

Bog grinned “Here ya go. This pair is new; never been worn by anyone. You get to break them in.” 

Marianne blinked in surprise. “Oh cool!” 

She reached for the shoes as Bog handed them to her. They were two-tone leather black and purple instead of the usual black and red. Instead of handing them to her, Bog dropped down on one knee. “Ah, care if I help you?” 

Marianne blushed, but nodded with a pleasant smile at him. Bog gazed at her, his eyes reminding her of a summer sky. He picked up one of the shoes and loosened the laces. He reached forward and lifted Marianne's foot, placing her foot on his knee. He let go picking up the shoe again, pulling the shoe wide, then he gently, almost tenderly, lifted her foot by the ankle and with his other hand, slipped the shoe on. 

Marianne's heart raced suddenly. She never in a million years would have thought that his touching her ankle would feel so intimate, but right then, she was having a hard time not squirming in her seat at the feel of two of his warm fingers touching the bare skin of her leg, just above her ankle. She pressed her lips together suppress a giggle of delight. Don't get her started on how it felt to have her foot cradled in the palm of his hand. 

He glanced up to make sure she was all right before he put her shoe on her other foot, repeating the same gestures. He finished tying the shoe, then stood up and gently laid her foot down; for a moment his fingers caressed up her ankle. Not far, just a little, but for Marianne it was the most erotic sensation she had ever experienced. 

“There.” Bog smiled as he stood up, the tips of his ears feeling like they were on fire. “It will just take me a moment to get mine on, then we can play.” 

Marianne grinned. “Thank you.” 

Bog blushed, but nodded his head. “Yer welcome.” 

Bog sat down across from her and easily slipped his boots off. Marianne noticed he had long, narrow feet which she found...interesting? She wondered what he would look like without his socks on...or pants...definitely without a shirt...she swallowed and had to shake herself to get the image of Bog without his clothing on out of her mind. 

Bog finished tying his shoes, stood up and walked over to the table where the score card sat. He picked it up, then with a grin over his shoulder at Marianne he tossed it. “Let's just play for fun, not worry about scoring.” 

Marianne gave Bog a snarky grin. “Oh, are you worried I'll beat you?” 

Bog raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh you think you can beat me, tough girl?” 

Marianne's smile widened. “I know I can beat you.” 

Bog chuckled and picked up the score card again. “Well, in that case...may the best man...” 

“Or woman!” Marianne piped up. 

“...win.” Bog laughed. 

* 

Marianne sat at the small table, a tall bottle of cola next to her. Bog's bottle of cola was on the other side of the table and the score card was in front of her. She watched Bog as he held the ball up, standing still for a moment. She grinned as she studied him. He was tall, thin, striking. Then he walked down the lane, taking a few long, swift steps before he leaned down to let the ball go. Her smile was lopsided. He was really...hot was the word that came to mind, because that was how she felt just looking at him. She sighed dreamily, but was snapped out of the dreamy staring at his behind when the ball struck the pins. He walked backwards watching his ball. The ball rolled and hit the pins, knocking all of them down but one. 

Marianne whistled. “Wow, that's pretty good.” 

Bog turned to grin at her. “Just watch.” 

He walked over picking his ball back up when it came around. He stood with it held in the cup of his hands for a few seconds before he walked up and lunged, releasing the ball in a smooth fluid movement. The ball rolled swiftly down the lane and hit the spare perfectly. 

Bog jumped back with a grin pumping his fist. “There!” 

Marianne made a face. “Show off.” 

Bog waggled his eyebrows. “Your turn.” 

Marianne stuck her tongue out as she switched places with him. She picked up her ball and walked into position. Bog slid into the seat she had just occupied, reaching for his soda while he watched her. She stood still, readying herself for her move. He grinned. She was adorable. He did his best not to stare at her, but it was damn hard to resist. She had a slight wiggle to her hips that was distracting and while she lined up her shot, she did a little move with her feet as if she were dancing in place. 

After a couple of seconds, Marianne walked with purpose toward the lane and let the ball go smoothly. She had good form, he noted, right leg extended to the left and her left arm elevated for balance after the throw. Her ball rolled down the aisle and slammed into the pins with force, knocking all of them down. Marianne squealed jumping in the air. “YES!!” 

Bog chuckled writing down her score. She turned around to him wiggling her hips. “Haha!!” 

Bog gave her a thumbs up. “Strike. Good going tough girl.” 

She giggled picking up her ball when it came back and walked to the lane. She lined up her shot, then with a graceful movement, she walked up and released the ball. The sound of the ball hitting the floor and rolling was a comforting sound Bog thought while watching Marianne. She leaned forward with her hands on her knees watching the ball, which was highly distracting for Bog. Then her ball hit the pins knocking only six of them down. 

Marianne sighed. “Well...shoot.” 

Bog chuckled as he stood up and placed a hand on Marianne's shoulder as he passed. She gazed up at him. 

Bog suddenly flushed. “Ah..ah...here, let me give you some money for the jukebox.” Bog dropped his hand digging into the front pocket of his jeans to pull out some change. “Here ah...that enough?” 

Bog dropped five dimes into her hand. Marianne smiled. “That's fine, thanks Bog.” 

He nodded shyly hurrying over to pick up his ball while Marianne walked over to the jukebox. 

She glanced at Bog, watching him as he bowled, making a strike. She grinned. He looked so good! She blushed for perhaps the hundredth time tonight and pressed her lips together. She put the money into the box, then picked out her songs. 

First, Dion and the Belmonts “I Wonder Why”, then Elvis “Blue Suede Shoes”, third, Little Richard “Long Tall Sally”, fourth The Diamonds “Little Darlin” and last...The Everly Brothers “All I have to do is Dream.” 

They continued the game, with it quickly becoming clear that Bog was the better player. When they finally ended the game, Bog's score was 226 while Marianne ended with a 183. 

Marianne frowned. “Well...shoot.” 

Bog chuckled. “Sorry...kind of a side effect of owning a bowling alley.” 

Marianne grinned. “Next time though. I'm winning.” 

Bog's smile widened...she said next time! He had wondered numerous times during their game if he should throw the game—wondered if it would be bad form to beat his date in the game. The music on the jukebox changed then, the smooth sounds of the Everly Brothers filling the bowling alley. 

They were both sitting next to each other, the score card in front of them when Bog asked softly. “Would you like to dance?” 

Marianne grinned and replied without hesitation. “Yes, I would.” 

With a redness in his cheeks, but a steadying breath, Bog stood up and reached out for her hand. Marianne took his hand, coming to her feet and moved into Bog's arms. 

They began to move while the Everly Brothers sang... 

“When I feel blue in the night 

And I need you to hold me tight 

Whenever I want you, all I have to do is 

Drea-ea-ea-ea-eam....” 

* 

Bog grinned at her, spinning her out and then back into his arms. They weaved in place for a little bit and then he spun them both around. Marianne grinned up at him as she thought about how blue his eyes were and how nice his smile was—reminded her of James Dean's, but so much better. She liked the way his lips were formed, the lines around his mouth, the small wrinkles around those seriously amazing blue eyes. Heck, she liked his crooked teeth! There was just something so magnetic about him... 

Bog swung her out from him while holding onto her hand. Marianne smiled, she liked the way his hand engulfed her own. She giggled to herself, her list of things she liked about Bog was growing by the minute. Bog spun her around, then twisted his body slightly just before he pulled her back into the cradle of his arms. 

Marianne blushed. She was pressed up against his chest gazing into his sky-blue eyes again. “I didn't realize you were such a good dancer.” 

Bog chuckled. “Comes from my Mam. She always told me what a great dancer my Da was, so I asked to learn one day. We used to spend a lot of nights dancing to Benny Goodman.” 

They spun around slowly to the music, the warm press of his hand against her back burned through her clothing. She was keenly aware of him, the pleasant smell of him, the warmth of his body that seemed to penetrate through her clothing to wash over her skin. 

Marianne giggled, trying to mask her blushing. “I bet you were cute when you were younger.” 

Bog laughed at that. “I wasn't as ugly, I guess.” 

Marianne frowned laying her head against his chest. “Bog, you're not ugly. Not at all.” 

She felt the rumble of a grunt vibrate through his chest which made her pull away and glare up at him. “Bog, I'm serious. You are very attractive.” 

Bog looked down at her, his cheeks were flushed. “You don't have to say that.” 

She stopped moving, to glare at him with conviction. “I'm not just saying it. It's true. I think you are very handsome.” 

Bog frowned as he looked down at her. He opened his mouth to protest, but Marianne grabbed his face between her hands, yanking him down to her and kissed him.


	5. When I Fall In Love It Will Be Forever

Marianne had yanked him forward and down so hard that Bog nearly lost his footing and took them both down to the floor. He righted himself only just barely. His eyes were open wide, staring down at Marianne who had her eyes screwed shut and her mouth pressed hard against his lips. Bog slowly closed his eyes, reached up and slid the fingers of one hand through her hair. His other hand, he gently laid against her lower back, pressing her body more firmly to his, softening the kiss as he did so, a hesitant lick of his tongue across her lips. 

Marianne softened her body, going liquid at the touch of Bog's tongue along her lips, the sweet, soft way he was holding her in his arms. The music on the jukebox changed and for just a moment Marianne's brow furrowed in confusion. She didn't remember picking this song, but it was perfect. 

The mellow sounds of Nat King Cole filled the empty bowling alley as Bog and Marianne weaved in place, her arms around his neck, her mouth opened along his lips allowing his tongue to hesitantly stroke across hers. 

* 

“When I fall in love it will be forever 

Or I'll never fall in love 

In a restless world like this is 

Love is ended before it's begun 

And too many moonlight kisses 

Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun 

When I give my heart it will be completely 

Or I'll never give my heart 

And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too 

Is when I fall in love with you. 

* 

They both moved gently to the music, weaving back and forth without moving from the spot they now occupied. Bog wrapped his arms tight around her, nearly lifting her off her feet as he kissed her. Marianne stood up on her tiptoes, hanging onto Bog desperately their kisses becoming deeper, intense, as their tongues intertwined. Marianne could smell his skin, an intoxicating mix of masculine spice and cigarette smoke, felt the soft texture of his shirt under her fingers, the heat of his body against hers and the soft feel of his lips against hers along with the wet heat of his tongue. The combination was enough to make her knees weak. Roland never made her knees weak. 

Bog's hands trembled. He had unintentionally slid his hands down her back to hold her at her waist. The urge to cup her rear and tug her even more firmly against him was strong, but he would never, never do that—not unless she wanted him to and only if she was very clear with him. Bog would never take advantage of her, never. But the smell of her, the heady aroma of flowers, the summer sunshine smell of her skin, the way her body melded up against his as if she fit perfectly against him. Then there was her mouth; soft, yielding, she tasted like strawberries though they hadn't even had any...which was something that made him smile all the more. 

Marianne gently urged Bog backwards. She didn't shove him; it was just a gentle shift of her body that pushed him backwards. She was only dimly aware of herself doing it. Part of her mind was telling her not to be so brazen, but the part of her mind that was acting more on instinct and animal urges simply kept pushing him. She needed to feel more of him against her and standing up just wasn't enough. 

Bog took a step back until the back of his legs touched the bowling seats. He flopped back into the chair, clumsily dropping down. Instantly Marianne crawled onto him and straddled his lap. Marianne cradled his head in her hands, her kissing intensifying, her mouth moving over his finding new angles to kiss. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, drawing a groan from Bog. Marianne pressed herself against him, trying to urge him with her body language to move his hands from her waist, to touch her; she wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her. Bog growled. It was a completely unintentional response, but she was bringing out feelings in him, urges...his jeans were too tight and his clothing felt like it was burning his skin. 

Marianne was becoming frustrated. Bog's hands never moved from her waist though he pulled her against him, his teeth brushed against her lips. Marianne rocked her hips feeling the bulge between her legs. Bog groaned, jerking when she thrust against him. Marianne reached down, pushing Bog's hands down from her waist to her rear. That was all the urging Bog needed. He spread his fingers across the surface of her rear, squeezing and pushing her down on him. Marianne gasped when his bulge pressed up against her. Bog's mouth moved down to her neck, his lips stroked across her pulse sending shivers down her mouth, she could feel the brush of his teeth against her skin. Marianne arched her head back as Bog moved lower, his tongue licking down to the hollow of her throat. Marianne pressed down against him rocking her hips, making Bog growl again. One of his hands moved from her rear, up the side of her body while his mouth worked its way back up her neck to her lips again. His hand cradled her ribs, not quite touching her breast which was driving Marianne mad. She wanted him to touch her, needed him. She pressed herself down on him again and he jerked, his hand finally sliding around to squeeze her breast through her top. Marianne groaned at his touch, her fingers sliding through his hair, completely messing his hair up, causing it to fall across his brow. 

Bog's other hand glided down her hip and over her thigh as he continued to kiss her, their tongues twisting in a slow caress against each other while his hand squeezed her breast softly. Marianne reached down between them pulling on Bog's shirt, then sliding her hands underneath, gasping softly when she felt his skin against her fingers. She pushed his shirt up higher, suddenly bolder, and Bog groaned, his teeth brushing her lips when they both heard shouting outside. For a moment they both ignored the sound. Marianne had managed to get Bog's shirt up to expose his chest, she had leaned down to run her tongue over his bare skin when the shouts were suddenly accompanied by the sounds of horns honking. 

Marianne and Bog both stopped, turning toward the sound. 

“What the hell is that?” Bog's accent was slightly thicker, Marianne noticed as well as feeling the tension in Bog's body. She reluctantly stood up, straightening out her clothing, Bog doing the same when he stood, though Marianne caught a quick glimpse from his jeans how excited she had made him (she had felt it, but seeing was even more interesting she thought). The shouting and honking outside continued, beginning to sound as if a hundred people were outside the bowling alley. Then there was the sound of something heavy hitting the main door of the bowling alley with a heavy thud. 

Bog cursed under his breath and took off at a run for the main door, with Marianne following close behind. Bog threw the door open just in time to be hit in the chest with something hard enough that he stumbled back into Marianne. The item turned out to be a balloon that burst on impact with his chest, splattering him in red paint. Outside in the bowling alley parking lot, there were at least six or seven cars, their headlights pointed at the bowling alley and blinding Bog for a moment. He held his hand up trying to see, but that many lights made it simply impossible. Marianne was behind him when Bog was hit with the paint balloon. She caught a few droplets of paint on her arms and pants, but she also caught a glimpse of who threw it...Roland. 

She could see the remains of paint everywhere in the parking lot where other balloons had been thrown at the front of the bowling alley. She couldn't see from her position off to the side and behind Bog but she could guess what the front of the building looked like. Marianne heard the deep chested growl of anger coming from Bog and the way his hands balled into fists at his side. There were too many of them and if Bog went out there to start a fight they would murder him! So Marianne did the only thing she could think of, she wrapped her arms around Bog from behind hissing. 

“Don't Bog, there are too many of them. Just stay here with me.” 

Bog didn't move. Marianne couldn't be sure if it was because of her or common sense, but she could feel Bog trembling in her grasp. 

Roland yelled from his car laughing. “Go back to home ya LIMEY!” 

Roland's gang all started to laugh, yelling 'limey' at Bog before they all revved their engines. With the screech of tires, a few more thrown balloons of paint and the loud chorus of horns, they sped off into the night yelling and honking. 

Within minutes it was quiet again. 

Marianne held onto Bog, pressing her cheek against his back, just waiting until she felt the tension ease from him. She slowly turned him around to face her. Bog was furious, but there were tears running down his paint spattered cheeks, his blue eyes blood shot. Marianne reached up and cupped his face between her hands rubbing her thumbs along his cheek in gentle caresses. 

“Bog, are you all right?” Marianne's voice broke as she looked into his blue eyes. 

“This...this place is...” Bog took a breath and tried to explain. “It's more than just a bowling alley Marianne. It's my home, my livelihood. Not just mine, but me Mum's too. They didn't just attack a building—they attacked my family.” Bog's voice was soft as he spoke. 

Marianne dropped her hands from his face, running her fingers tenderly down his paint spattered arms before taking his hands and pulled him back inside, letting go only long enough to close and lock the door. She took his hand again and led him further inside. 

“Where's your room?” Marianne asked. 

“Upstairs,” Bog murmured. 

Marianne led him to the door he indicated, back behind the counter and flipped on a switch that lit up a single free hanging light bulb. The light showed a set of stairs leading up to the second floor. Marianne held his hand and took him up the stairs. Under Bog's direction, they went to a room at the end of a small hall. Marianne continued to lead him, stepped inside and flipped another switch. The living space up here was small, but it was clean and neat. As Marianne walked Bog to his room, she saw family pictures of Bog, his mother and his father decorating the walls and sitting on the furniture. There were baby pictures in the main living space of Bog; even in the black and white photos, Bog's blue eyes blazed out. He was a tall, thin boy with a serious face, but that smile had not changed much. Marianne could almost feel the love in this room, a small tight knit family. 

Bog's room was small, the walls were a dull beige, the furniture old and worn. The bed looked too small for a man his size, decorated with a dark green coverlet that looked handmade and a couple of flat pillows. There was a beat up chair in the corner with an old yellow lamp and a stack of paperback books on it. On one wall was a single window without a curtain while the other walls held pinned to them travel posters. Posters of Hawaii, Rio, Greece, Las Vegas. Marianne guessed those were places Bog would like to go someday. 

In another corner of the room was a small round table covered with pencils and papers. She couldn't see what was on the paper, but it from her vantage point, they looked like poems or song lyrics, Marianne couldn't be sure. That same table also held a radio and a coffee cup that she could see in the dim light had also stained a ring into the wood. There was no closet in here, but it looked like Bog had rigged an old pole along the wall that held his clothing on wire hangers. The room wasn't much, but Marianne could smell cigarette smoke and Bog's scent, a scent that was spicy and made her insides melt pleasantly. 

Marianne sat Bog down. He sat at the foot of his bed without fuss, even letting her help him take his shirt off. For a moment, she stared at Bog's chest, a chest she had licked just minutes before, the memory of which caused her to swallow and blush. She turned to go and find him another shirt when Bog grabbed her hand. 

He didn't say anything, he just pulled her to him between his legs and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face against her stomach. Marianne felt a spike of pain in her chest for Bog. Granted, the prank wasn't much really; it could have been worse. But to have so much malice directed at you and at something you put your blood, swear and tears into...it had to hurt. 

Marianne smiled down at Bog, her fingers brushing through his hair slowly. 

“I'm sorry Marianne.” Bog's muffled voice drifted up to her. 

“Sorry? For what?” Bog let go of her and angrily wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I'm a grown fucking man. Men don't cry.” 

“Real men cry,” Marianne said firmly. She wrapped her arms around his head, holding him against her once more. She tenderly ran her hands up and down his shoulders, brushing her fingers over the small hairs at the back of his neck. They stayed that way for a long while until Bog finally murmured. 

“If crying gets a pretty woman to press my head to her stomach, I”ll do it more often.” 

Marianne smiled with light chuckle before she let go to sit down beside him. 

“When I find out who....” Bog started, but Marianne interrupted him. “It was Roland.” 

“How do you know?” Bog leaned his elbows on his knees. 

“I saw him. Besides, I would recognize that pompous voice anywhere.” Marianne kissed his shoulder. 

Bog took a calming breath. 

“You should tell the police,” Marianne added, but Bog shook his head. “It would be a simple vandal charge and it's my word against his—you really think they would believe me over him?” 

Marianne sighed dropping her elbows to her knees. “You're right.” 

Bog muttered. “I'm just going to have to win his car.” 

Marianne grinned. “Yeah, you are.” 

Bog turned to her smiling. They looked at one another their faces drawing toward each other, neither of them resisting. Bog reached up and cupped her face staring into her eyes as if he were lost. He whispered softly, “When I fall in love...it will be forever...” 

Marianne whispered back, “Or I'll never fall in love...” 

Marianne smiled as the words of the song they had been dancing to played through her head. She made contact with his mouth first, her lips pressing against his mouth, her arms sliding around his neck. She wasn't sure how she ended up straddling him again, but before she realized what had happened she was on Bog's lap, pressing him back against the bed, her mouth moving hungrily over his, her hands grabbing his hair. 

Bog groaned as he laid back, Marianne pressed against his bare chest. She kissed him as if her life depended on the contact of their lips, one hand cradled his neck, her other hand dragged down his shoulder feeling the definition of the muscles underneath, the light scars that marred his skin at the shoulder then down along his arm. 

Bog wrapped his arms around Marianne, sliding them under her top feeling the curve of her back, the rough tips of his fingers tracing delicate circles around the satin softness of her skin. Marianne started to grind her hips against him almost as soon as their bodies made contact, picking up right where they had left off, except this time he was lying down and his shirt was missing. Marianne started to kiss his neck, her tongue sliding out to taste his skin when Bog rolled her over. 

Marianne let out a startled, “Eek!” 

Bog grinned down at her, his dark hair flopping loose against his forehead. “You're driving me kookie Marianne.” His voice was a low seductive purr. 

Marianne giggled. “You started it.” 

He kissed her then. At least with him on top Bog thought he could control her grinding against him. It was becoming too much to bear. Marianne's arms went around his torso, her kisses soft, yet they burned against his lips and tongue. When her teeth scraped against his bottom lip Bog moaned. 

He leaned to his side a little, dragging his hand up her torso, feeling the cloth of her shirt bunch against the motion, but then he was at her breast, his hand once more glided over her breast, gently squeezing and making Marianne groan with pleasure. Bog shifted his position, his thigh between her legs. Marianne groaned again (she knew she sounded unladylike, but she simply couldn't help it! Bog was driving her kookie too with the way he kissed, touched her. He had her thinking about things…) 

She ran her hands along his back—his naked back she thought to herself—touching him, feeling the way his muscles moved, the way he arched over her pressing his thigh between her legs. 

He dragged his hand down over her breast, to the edge of her shirt. Her heart started beating hard, she could feel the way he gently shoved the fabric of her top up, his bare fingertips against her stomach. Then his fingers were under her top. He was moving too slow, she thought, but at the same time she thought he was moving too fast. She wanted him to touch her badly, but she was scared too. She had never let Roland under her clothing, never. She had never rubbed herself so...wantonly against him either. Bog did things to her that she had just never experienced and she wanted to experience more. 

Bog's hand had just reached over her bra, the tips of his fingers touching her bare skin at the edges of her bra. Marianne moaned softly against Bog's mouth. He did the same pressing his leg against her when they both heard the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs and then the sound of Bog's mother's voice drifting up from downstairs. 

“BOG? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED OUTSIDE?” 

Marianne squeaked and shoved Bog so hard in the chest that he went right over the side of the bed landing on his rear with a loud thump. 

Griselda's voice came again. “BOG?” 

Bog jumped swiftly to his feet. “JUST A MINUTE MUM!!” 

Bog rushed over, yanking a t-shirt off a hanger while Marianne stood up and ran her hands over herself making sure her clothing was all in place. Neither one of them realized the state of their hair or that Bog still had flecks of paint on his arms and face. 

They both had made it to the door of his bedroom, Bog throwing it open and Marianne rushing out but it was already too late. Griselda had stopped in the middle of the hall on her way to Bog's room and saw the two of them stumble out. But instead of looking shocked, upset or disgusted, the older woman simply grinned.


End file.
